Authors: Honey Palomino
RECKLESS AND WILD
MC ROMANCE BOX SET
Copyright © 2014 by HONEY PALOMINO
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations and incidences are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment purposes only.
This book contains mature content
and is intended for adults only.
Honey Palomino is a true romantic at heart!
She loves reading and writing about dangerous bad boys and the women that love them!
BIKER ROMANCE AND EROTICA
BOYS SERIES (MMF THREESOME EROTICA)
WEREWOLF ROMANCE AND EROTICA
By Honey Palomino
“I'm convinced we all are voyeurs.
We want to know secrets,
and we want to know what goes on
behind those windows.”
My name is Dixie and I have a problem. I can admit that. I admit it to myself everyday. But I tell myself it's harmless, and so I don't do much to change it. Some people might think it's wrong, sure. But that doesn't matter to me.
I would never share my problem with anyone, I keep it to myself, so I don't have to worry about what other people think.
It keeps me entertained, that's for sure. It passes the time and even provides me with even more entertainment when I'm done. Sometimes I worry a little, that I might get caught. But I haven't yet, not in any serious way. Occasionally, I'll get an odd look when I'm out and about, but it's easy to chalk it up to coincidence or imagination. Unless someone was watching me all the time, they would never know. And there's the irony.
I'm a voyeur. Not in the sexual sense of the word, it's not like I'm a pervert or anything. I just have a tendency to fixate on a person, so I watch them. Maybe I'll follow them a few times, just to see what they are up to. They're always strangers. I never talk to them, I just watch. And then I go home and I write about them. I write stories about what I see, and keep them all to myself. A big file on my laptop is filled with the accounts of other people's days.
Maybe you are thinking that's creepy, but really, isn't that what most writers do? We write stories about other people. Some writers just make up the characters in their head, but some authors say the best characters are the ones that bare a resemblance to someone they've met in real life.
So, I didn't feel so bad about it, you know? I was a writer. A writer with an incredibly boring life off the page, and since I didn't have a lot of real life inspiration to draw from, I went out and found some. So what if I pushed the boundary between watching and stalking every now and then? There was no harm intended.
It was fascinating. People tend to do the strangest things when they think nobody is watching.
Like right now, here I am sitting in my car watching a couple make out in a red Mustang on the corner of 3
and Broadway downtown. I can't see them very well. It's way past midnight and the street lights are faint and flickering overhead and most likely about to go out and ruin my show before we get to the good stuff.
I followed this couple out of the bar I stopped in after work, and instead of starting my car, I sat here and watched them approach the Mustang. I wasn't surprised when they started making out before they even got the doors open. The tall dark-haired man isn't all that handsome, but he exudes confidence with every step. He pushed the petite blonde against the car. She giggled and sighed before wrapping a leg around him and pressing her huge breasts against his barrel-chest.
After making out like teenagers for a few minutes, they got in the car and drove off. How could I not follow? I didn't have anything better to do, and it was Friday night. Sure, I had to work tomorrow morning, but the best things to watch happened on the weekends.
I was surprised when they ended up at a park instead of a house. You only go to the park to make out late at night if you can't go home. I wondered which one of them was married?
They weren't discreet by any means. After turning off the lights, they stumbled out of the car and into the park. Once again, the man took charge and pushed her up against a tree. Hiking her leg up once again, I watched as his meaty hands grabbed her thighs firmly and pressed into her. He pulled back just enough to unzip his pants and take out his cock before plunging into her swiftly.
Their silhouettes swayed back and forth, their passion back lit by the faint lights in the park. Blonde hair tangled in the man's fingers as he pulled her head back and kissed her neck. I rolled down my window, listening as her soft moans drifted into the trees. He thrust into her wildly, his roughness met with the blonde's surprising impassioned rawness. Their movements were focused and precise, yet their chemistry was undeniable. Their hands clutched and clawed at their clothed flesh as they kissed passionately, his thrusts becoming harder and faster as he pounded into her. Her cries filled the park as he thrust deeply and held her against him. I watched, my heart pounding, as he kissed her searchingly and she fell against him. The light fell on her face, allowing me a faint view of her sweet smile of satisfaction. It was delightfully lovely.
After a moment, they parted, adjusting their clothes. The man grabbed the woman's hand, kissed her on her forehead sweetly, and led her back to his car.
I followed slowly as the man drove the woman back to the bar, gently kissing her again before he tucked her in and she drove off. He returned to his car and drove off into the night. Keeping a fair distance between us, I continued to follow him several miles until he turned off into the driveway of a low-slung brick ranch-style house. I quietly pulled over on the side of the road and watched.
The immaculate lawn framed the house handsomely, and a trail of red petunias lined the curved sidewalk leading to a large porch. As soon as the man pulled his tall body out of the car, the porch light came on and the front door opened.
I was stricken by his smile at first. The short slim man that strolled out of the front door had a smile that could light up the sky. His eyes sparkled as he rushed down the sidewalk to greet the tall man I had been following. They met halfway and as I glanced at the tall man, I saw the tenderness that crossed his face. Just as the two men came together in a passionate kiss, I recognized the look as the same look he had given to the blonde just moments before.
I watched in awe and curiosity as the two men lovingly greeted one another and turned to walk inside of the house.
That was not what I expected to happen. And that was why I loved watching people so much. Just when you think you have them figured out, when you think everyone has become predictable and that everything that could possibly happen has already happened – bang! It throws you for a loop. Someone looks normal and boring? Oh, no. Just when you least expect it – a big ol' curve ball is coming your way!
That was the beauty of life, if you asked me. You could be anyone, do anything, go anywhere.
And the thing is, most people kept some very interesting secrets. Which brings us back to my problem. I wanted to know what people's secrets were. I was a curious cat, if you will.
Beyond satisfied with my decision to follow the couple, I turned my car around and headed home, mentally replaying the events of the night with the hopes of memorizing every detail of what I had witnessed. Tonight was a good one.
I managed to write it all down before I was overtaken by pure lust. I spent the next hour with my hand buried in my pussy frantically pushing my body over the edge again and again as images of the tall man burying his cock in the blonde flashed in my head. I would have loved to have been the blonde. But then I thought of the other man waiting for him at home, and the thought of him bending him over and burying his cock inside of him, his smile still firmly plastered on his face as he was drilled roughly turned me on like nothing had before. It was hours before I finally fell asleep, blissfully dreaming of a huge bed large enough to hold the tangled limbs of all four of us.
I woke up an hour late. I had forgotten to set my alarm, but it didn't really matter. I own my own hair salon, which sounds fancy, but isn't. I rent a small little storefront in our sleepy little downtown area and I'm the only person who works there. At least I'm the boss, right? I didn't have any appointments this morning, so being late isn't an issue.
I took my time getting ready, feeling a little frisky after last night, almost as if I had had sex with someone other than myself! I spent a little extra time on my appearance, even though the only people that were going to see me would be whoever happened to be at the grocery store on my way home later. My business was failing, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't have any walk-ins today.
I was in for a whole lot of boredom, just like every other day. Well, unless I found something extra special to watch today. Visions of the tall man and the blonde's moans filled my head throughout the morning as I ate breakfast and slowly made my way out of the house.
I pulled up in front of Dixie's Cut and Curl and looked around the almost abandoned street. A few cars were in front of the old post office, but that was it. I pulled down my rear view mirror to check my lipstick before I got out of the car. Really, I was just procrastinating going inside my depressing, failing business. But I had to keep up appearances, I guess. My long, black curls cascaded down my back and my lipstick was perfect and boring, just like it was when I left my house ten minutes ago.
I sighed as I walked up to the dark door of my salon. Just as I put the key in the lock, the plate glass window in front of my shop began vibrating violently. I turned around, knowing exactly what I would see. Harleys. Big, loud, earth-shatteringly loud motorcycles. Several of them.
I watched as the four leather-clad men rode past me and turned into their motorcycle repair shop at the end of the block. This was a daily occurrence – luckily my window hadn't broken yet. I was sure that was going to happen some day, though. I never understood why their bikes had to be so damned loud. But I wasn't about to ask them, let alone dare to complain to anyone.
These weren't just any bikers. These guys were part of a local biker gang, The Outlaws. Their name was so obvious, it just seemed like a huge flag they were waving to the world. But the cops seemed to leave them alone, as did everyone else in town. I was sure they were up to some sort of illicit activity, but since I didn't seen any of them coming in for a cut or curl anytime soon, I was pretty sure they weren't going to be providing me with that information.
Which was just fine with me. They scared the hell out of me. Sure, I was intrigued about them, so was everyone else in town, but there was an unspoken rule that if you left them alone, they would leave you alone. So most folks followed it and all was just fine.
They sure were an active bunch of people though. I had the pleasure of being in a prime spot to watch their comings and goings. In addition to the motorcycle repair business, there must have been another business going on over there, because there sure were a lot of women that hung out there. Curvy, scantily clad, leather-boot, fringe-jacket, big-hair kind of women. The kind of women that sashayed through the parking lot knowing every man's eyes were raking over her every curve and expected it. The bikers seemed to be very fond of that type. But, who wouldn't? I had to admit I was guilty of raking my eyes over their curves myself. They were impossible to resist.
But today, there was not one woman in sight. After turning on the lights of the salon and the radio, and opening the big curtain of the front window, I stood there staring across the street into the big open parking lot of Outlaw Repair. There were only men there today and when I glanced at the faces of the various guys milling around, I noticed there was a whole lot of grimaces, angry eyes and clenched fists. Some days were just like that over there.
Two of the men were off to the side, deep into an intense conversation. I couldn't hear a word they were saying, but whatever they were talking about was serious. I bit my lip as I drank in the sight of them. They were tough, sure, but they were pure masculinity.
They both looked as if they had been beaten up a few times, scars crossed the forehead of one of them. His long blonde hair brushed the shoulders of his black leather jacket and the scar only contributed to his rugged handsomeness. Slightly taller than his partner, his lean, muscular body was outlined perfectly by his tight, faded Levi's. My eyes lingered on his small, round ass as I wondered what he would look like naked. I suddenly wished it was him I had followed last night. What a sight it would be to see him devouring a woman up against a tree. I continued watching him, and came to the conclusion that he was worth watching no matter what he was doing. His body moved gracefully, confidence oozing off him, and the anger bubbling under the surface created a seductive tension.
His partner was equally enticing. Dark, unruly curls framed his prominent cheekbones. His thick full lips were pressed together in serous concentration as he listened intently. Dressed in similar faded jeans and a black leather vest covered in patches, I admired their willing visibility. The only thing I ever wanted to do was fade quietly into the background, and their mission was the complete opposite.
I had been intrigued by them for years, watching them from afar, but never daring to follow any of them anywhere. I wasn't that stupid. I mean, sure I had wanted to. I had fantasized about it many, many times. I wondered if they had families, other jobs, normal homes that they went to at night. But even though I was tempted, I had never followed them because I was too afraid. My fear didn't keep me from watching them from my window though. That was something I found myself doing a little too often lately.
I knew from glimpses of the patches on their leathers that the blonde guy was the President and that his name was River. The man with the dark curls wore a patch that said VP and another that said Colby. There were others I had managed to read also – Bear, Chief, Danger, and Spider. Each one of them wore their leather jackets and vests with pride and they all had a gun in a holster on their sides. They obviously spent many hours working out, except Chief, who was the oldest of the group. His long gray hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail every day, and he spent most of his time lounging and drinking beer under a shade tree near the parking lot. But even Chief had that air of masculinity and danger about him.
They were all smoking hot and enough eye candy to keep me satisfied for days. And the danger intrigued me. Many days had passed with me wishing I had the courage to follow them. I hadn't found it yet.
I couldn't allow myself to watch them all day, so I turned away from the window and decided to clean my salon and try to brighten things up a bit. Maybe if the place looked a little more inviting, I would bring in some much needed business. I started by sweeping and dusting, and after eating lunch I moved on to rearranging the furniture in the waiting area and mopping the floors. By the time I looked up, the day had passed and it was beginning to get dark outside.